Blood will Out
by LadyNightRunner
Summary: An accident of unnoticed proportions puts Vincent in an uncomfortable position with Sephiroth. On the trip back to midgar to turn Sephiroth in, just how much will be revealed by blood and bone? Rated for blood, angst, and character death.


Ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls, I present to you a painfully long piece that came to me more than a year ago, got shuttled off to the side, and was dug out of holding a couple of weeks ago to be reworked. You want wet, sexy men? You got it. Blood? Plenty. Pain and suffering? You want it in physical or emotional? Angst? I got your angst. And I have your snarky Chaos in the background. Have fun, and don't forget to read/review/

Oh, and I'm doing two new things:First, I have a response to an anonymous review/flame on my page. Check it out, folks! It might be yours! Second, I'm taking requests for theme lists. I can do singles, couples (friendship or romance), and threesomes.

* * *

Vincent had bad timing. That wasn't to say that he wasn't ever in the right place at the right time- usually, he was there early, waiting to ambush the right time- but it seemed that things had a tendency to happen when he was around. Things he didn't want to get involved in. There was the Jenova mess, which he wouldn't have been involved in if he hadn't been in the wrong place at the wrong time when he discovered Tseng and Elena's capture. There was Cloud's wedding, which he would not have had to attend as best man if he hadn't been the only sober one at the party celebrating the proposal. He wouldn't have nearly had his left eye clawed out if he hadn't agreed to help Marlene select a kitten at the shelter. And he wouldn't have been in this mess if it hadn't been raining hard enough to force him to take shelter in a small cave that had a Life Stream flow in it.

_This is a _fine_ way to spend an afternoon,_ Chaos groused.

"I don't see why you're complaining," Vincent muttered, wringing the water out of his hair. He stood at the mouth of the cave, stripped down to his boxers, trying to get as much water off of himself as possible before he sat down anywhere. His clothes hung off small outcroppings of stone that hurt like hell when he bumped his head on them but seemed tailor-made for hanging things. Once he got the fire going, his boxers would join everything else in a long session of drip-drying.

_Anyone could see you! I thought you had more modesty than this!_

"I am cold and I am wet. I'm solving those problems the easy way."

_But you're naked!_

"We are out in the middle of nowhere. If someone happened by, I'm sure they'd be more concerned with shelter than with my state of dress."

_Vincent!_

"Oh, hush."

Chaos grumbled but hushed. Satisfied that he wasn't going to be pestered any longer, Vincent returned to his tiny campfire and crouched by it, coaxing the flames into growing larger and licking at the larger bits of wood he offered it. When it was large enough to offer a decent amount of heat, he peeled his boxers off, hung them up, and perched on a rock near enough to the fire to promise drying out sometime in the next hour or so.

_Are you going to eat, at least?_

"Heat first, then food, thank you. You may not care how numb my toes have gone from being in waterlogged boots, but I am acutely aware of it. When I can feel all of my extremities, I'll eat."

_Fine. _

---------------------------------

As promised, Vincent dug lunch out of his pack after his hair had gone from dripping to just damp. Warm enough to be comfortable sitting a bit farther from the fire, he leaned against the wall and nibbled on a ration bar, which he preferred to carry in spite of the uninspiring taste and consistency. That, and water collected from outside, made up his meal.

_Doesn't the flow back there worry you?_

"Why should it? It's hardly moving. There's no action beneath the surface, which means no reason to worry."

_I'd be a little wary around any free substance with Mako in it. _

"I've spent the night in here before. It's never been a problem."

_Most people would take the advice of someone who knows as much about Mako and the Life Stream as I do._

"Most people don't know that you're paranoid."

_I am not!_

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Vincent had hoped to get back out before dark, but it was the kind of storm that continued steadily for hours, just hard enough to make staying in the cave the more desirable option. Resigned to losing even more time, he unpacked his bedroll and settled down. The steady sound of the rain lulled him to sleep.

-----------------------------------

_Wake up! _

"Uhhn?"

_Wake up, you idiot! I need you conscious!_

Vincent rubbed at his eyes groggily.

"What is it, Chaos?"

_The flow. Something's going on in it. _

"It's hardly a decent hour for such jokes, Chaos. I'm tired and I want to sleep."

_I'm serious! Something is up and I'd rather you check it out and get pissed if it's nothing to worry about instead of getting eaten or engulfed if I'm right and it's something to worry about._

"Alright, alright. I'll look."

He dragged himself out of the warmth of his bedroll, paused to nudge the fire back into life, and padded into the back of the cave.

The Life Stream flow was more of a pool, an irregular dip in the stone large enough for several people to bathe in if they were stupid (and relatively close friends) that was full of the faintly luminous fluid that was the corporeal manifestation of the Life Stream. It was fed from some subterranean source, no doubt, one that was small or nearly dried up.

When Vincent had checked on it upon arriving, the surface had been nearly still, only faintly disturbed by ripples caused by the source forcing more liquid into the pool. The glow had been nearly out, little more than a hint of light that didn't make it to the wall. Now, the ripples were continuous and could be seen several paces back from the pool. The glow reached the ceiling, bathing the back of the cave in blue-green light.

_See? I was right! I was _so_ right!_

"Be quiet, Chaos."

While Chaos continued to crow about his superiority, Vincent crouched at the edge of the pool and peered into the depths, looking for a possible cause for the sudden action. Nothing, save for a dark shape that was-

_Back up! Backupbackupbackup! _Now!_ That thing's coming out and it's not little! Movemovemovemove!_

Vincent hopped backwards, stumbling on the uneven floor and falling back just as the surface of the pool broke and something burst out of it. It dragged itself out of the pool and slumped on the bare stone, panting raggedly. Behind it, the pool settled and dulled until the orange glow from the fire was all that illuminated the cave.

_Gun. Get the gun. _

I know what I need to do, Chaos. I'm not a complete novice.

_Shoot it and get rid of the body, please._

Mmhm.

He picked himself up and moved slowly to the fire and Cerberus. When he had it cradled in his hands, he headed back to the wet shape slumped by the pool, comforted by the soft sound of bullets slipping into the chambers when he cocked the gun.

"Don't shoot," the shape groaned.

Vincent hesitated. Life Stream constructs were rarely capable of even the simplest speech, and it was unlikely that one would be able to recognize the threat of a gun simply by hearing it. He was dealing with something different.

_Just shoot it!_

I don't know if I should. It can speak, and it can recognize a gun by hearing alone. It's not the average-

_I don't care! It's a threat! You shoot threats!_

Ignoring Chaos, Vincent toed the shape, ready to leap back and shoot at a moment's notice. Nothing happened. Encouraged, he worked his foot under what felt like a shoulder and rolled the whole thing over onto its back. Then he yelped, leaped backward, and fired. The bullets missed entirely, but sent chips of stone flying when they hit.

_You missed! It's right there, you ninny! Marlene could make that shot! Reno could make it when he's drunk out of his mind! How could you miss that?_

Sephiroth.

_What?_

**Sephiroth.**

_Oh. I see him._

SO DO I!

_Shoot him!_

Sephiroth groaned and drew into a fetal position, face hidden by his hands. They were mottled with scratches and bruises, which made Vincent lower Cerberus and take in the entire picture. Yes, Sephiroth was alive and lying on the floor of the cave, easy prey and an easy shot. He was also hurt, if the blood slowly staining the wet stone beneath him was any indicator, and Masamune was nowhere in sight. You couldn't hide a sword that big, particularly when you were curled up like that. It wasn't physically possible, and Sephiroth tended to at least pay some attention to the laws of physics, if not always the laws of gravity. Huddled there before Vincent, he made a pathetic figure, one that Vincent couldn't bring himself to kill.

_You pick a lovely time to develop a weakness for helpless creatures._

You and I have theorized about what may have been behind his apparent madness and consequent homicidal rampages. It may not have been him, remember?

_That was when he was _dead_! He's not dead now, is he? Kill him again and we can get back to theorizing!_

Vincent politely put up a mental barrier and returned Cerberus to his bedroll. Unarmed, he returned to Sephiroth and crouched beside him, prodding his shoulder with his flesh hand.

"No," Sephiroth mumbled. "I'm not getting up."

"Tell me how you're alive," Vincent commanded.

"No."

"Tell me or I _will_ kill you."

"I don't know. Too tired to think. Kill me or let me sleep."

While Vincent pondered this entirely out of character response, Sephiroth fell asleep. Vincent's attempts at waking him failed. That was that, then. There would be no questioning until the thrice-dead General woke up. Vincent rolled his eyes, picked Sephiroth up by his arms, and hauled him over to the fire to treat his wounds.

-------------------------------------

The injuries Vincent cleaned and bandaged were many and varied but few looked liked ones sustained during either Cloud's fight with Sephiroth on the roof after Kadaj got his hands on Jenova's head or during the chase and subsequent fight at the Northern Crater. The worst of them was a ragged gash as long as Vincent's hand in the soft flesh of Sephiroth's side, but it wasn't deep enough to warrant worry over internal damages. Satisfied that there was nothing else he could do for now, Vincent threw his cloak over Sephiroth and went back to his bedroll, Cerberus cradled against his chest.

----------------------------------------

_Vincent? You might want to get up._

If he isn't about to kill me, I don't want to hear it.

_Something's wrong with him._

Wrong with him?

_Just wake up and see for yourself! I can't tell what the problem is when I can only hear._

Vincent sat up, bringing Cerberus up with him, and peered into the shadows in Sephiroth's side of the fire. Under the voluminous folds of the cloak, Sephiroth was curled into a tight fetal position, mostly hidden by his hair and the cloak. What Vincent could see of his face was slick with sweat and contorted with either pain or fear.

Oh, boy.

_Looks like he's reacting to the Mako._

He's been in it for awhile. Why _now_, of all times?

_The environment's changed. His body wouldn't recognize the problem if everything around it was Mako-tainted. It would be like your body rejecting oxygen. _

It's never anything simple, is it?

_With you around? Never._

Vincent crawled out of his bed roll for the second time that night and knelt beside Sephiroth, pulling the cloak away to get a better look at him. What he saw was nothing good.

_Talk to me._

I've never seen it this bad. What do you think?

_He's gonna be sick as a dog as soon as he wakes up, though when that'll be, I couldn't tell you. Good news is, the Mako is going to keep his injuries from going bad while the rest of him either shuts down and rots or burns the Mako out. Assuming you still want to be irrational and all that, I'd say you have your work cut out for you. Fever, phantom pain, real pain, hallucinations, nausea and vomiting, nightmares, light sensitivity…have fun._

Are you saying any of those, or all of those?

_Hard to say. Make him bleed, a fresh wound, and get the blood where I can see it._

Rather than argue, Vincent flicked the tip of one of his claws against the side of Sephiroth's neck, then tilted the ex General's head so the meager light caught the blood and made it glitter. And glow.

_Hoo, boy._

You don't have to tell me. Glowing blood is never a good thing.

_You could still kill him and get out of here before he wakes up._

No.

_Next thing I know, you're gonna be picking up strays and adopting homeless kids! My reputation will go down the tubes!_

Any suggestions on how to speed his recovery?

_Wake him up._

I need a reason.

_Get your flashlight. Wake him. Shine the light in his eyes. That'll trigger some serious vomiting, which serves to get as much Mako out of his system as is possible. Then treat him normally, more or less, because that ought to get him down to a level more like the serious Mako poisoning you've seen before. Heck, that you've _had_ before. Then you treat him and wait._

Thank you.

Vincent returned to his pack, retrieved the flashlight from the bottom, and padded back over to Sephiroth. He gave the situation a critical look, then dragged Sephiroth over to the mouth of the cave. There was no way he was going to spend the rest of the night and probably another day in a cave that smelled of vomit. He settled cross-legged on the floor, Sephiroth half supported by his knee, and shook him. Sephiroth groaned but didn't wake. A second, harder shake produced similar results. Irritated, Vincent slapped him. The green eyes snapped open, trying to focus. Before they could close, Vincent brought the flashlight up, trained it on Sephiroth's eyes, and switched it on.

The effect was nearly instantaneous. Sephiroth's pupils shrank to pinpricks, widened to swallow most of the iris, then shrank again. He gulped. Vincent pushed a hand under him and tilted him up to lean out over the slight drop from the cave mouth to the ground. His timing was impeccable- Sephiroth started to throw up almost as soon as Vincent quit moving. Vincent wrinkled his nose and twisted Sephiroth's hair around his hand, knowing it was the fastest and most reliable way to keep him from falling out into the rain.

_See? Instant results._

When I'm finished here, I'm going to bludgeon you into oblivion.

_Love you too, Valentine._

----------------------------------------

When morning dawned, gray and drizzly, Sephiroth was slumped in a boneless jumble of limbs on Vincent's bedroll, doing what Vincent had hoped he would: he was sleeping the poisoning off. Shortly after he'd stopped vomiting, Vincent had balanced carefully in the cave mouth so the rain could clean him up. When his arms started to shake from the strain, he dragged him back in, stripped off the clammy leathers he was wearing, and bundled him into the bedroll. Sephiroth's only contribution had been a few groggy moans and a single half-hearted swing at some specter Vincent couldn't see. As soon as he was tucked in, he's gone completely limp and stayed that way.

_At least he doesn't snore._

Chaos, I am stiff, sore, tired, and not in the mood. If you don't shut your non-existent trap in the next ten seconds, I am going to take a nap and remove your non-existent reproductive organs. With a rock. Understood?

Chaos ceased talking. He ceased thinking about talking. In fact, he retreated to the farthest reaches of Vincent's mind and pretended he didn't exist. When Vincent threatened like that, you did what he said.

-----------------------------------

By late morning, Vincent had grown quite bored. He was tired of sitting still and he was tired of doing nothing. He snatched tackle from his bag and headed for the nearest body of water.

--------------------------------------

Sometime later, Vincent flounced back into the cave, wet and carrying four trout on a string. It had only taken some grubbing about under a few rocks to find bait, and now he had lunch. What he also had was an attitude- quiet and brooding he might be, but Vincent Valentine was also a moody, sometimes temperamental individual who was as likely to get in a snit as the next person. The difference was that he tended to hide it. Alone, he felt justified in expressing how frustrated he was with the day's activities. The source of his irritation was the fish; while gutting them, he'd misjudged on the last one and had wound up with a smelly mess all over his hand and arm that he'd had to clean off in the river. He still smelled faintly of fish guts, and it irritated him.

Sephiroth woke while Vincent was cooking the fish. Rather than toast it on a stick, he'd shredded it and dumped it into the collapsible pot he carried in his pack, cooking it together with a package of instant tomato soup mix. The result would be a passable fish soup that was more palatable than either of the main ingredients on their own. Since there was too much fish for one little packet of soup, the remaining fish was drying over the flames.

"Hhggn?" Sephiroth managed, struggling to sit up.

"Get up and I will put a bullet in your eye," Vincent said quietly. "You're recovering from severe Mako poisoning. You have no business being alive, let alone moving around."

"B-"

"Lie down. _Now._"

Sephiroth lay down. Apparently, even he knew when to quit arguing.

Vincent poked moodily at the coals, waiting for his soup to come to a boil so he could eat, and feed some of it to Sephiroth.

_Do we have to feed him?_

Yes, we do.

_He's got enough muscle to-_

I am not in the mood. Be useful, or be quiet.

_What's gotten into you lately? You're being such a moody ass. I can't read you, and I live in your head._

Vincent didn't answer. The soup came to a boil. He took it off, poured some of the broth into his camp mug- now he was glad he'd given into Tifa's insistence that the mess-kit was an essential item he should carry whenever he traveled- and carried it to Sephiroth.

"Drink."

Sephiroth reached for it, hands shaking. Vincent sighed. There was no way he'd be able to hold onto the mug _and_ drink from it without help. Kneeling, he folded Sephiroth's hands around the mug, covered them with him own, and lifted the mug to Sephiroth's lips. The General took a few sips, then tried to lower it. They repeated this until the mug was mostly empty. Vincent returned to tending his soup.

"Vincent, right?"

"You may call me Valentine."

"What do you think you're doing with me?"

"Getting you into a condition suitable for interrogation."

Sephiroth choked. Vincent looked back to make sure he wasn't in any danger, determined that it was surprise and nothing more, and turned back to his soup.

"Interrogation?" Sephiroth demanded as soon as he was able.

"Yes."

"_Why_?"

"You've been killed a grand total of three times now. Your subsequent return can't be a good thing. I intend to find out how you keep coming back, then stop it from happening again."

"You're going to kill me."

"Yes."

"Even if I tell you information I don't have."

"You have it."

"No, I don't."

"Tell me what you know."

"I get killed either way. Why should I?"

"It's the difference between getting shot between the eyes and being slowly taken apart. Your choice."

"What do you have against me?" Sephiroth complained, using a tone more suited to a teenager who wasn't getting his way than a war hero and homicidal psychopath.

"You are a murderer," Vincent said simply, nibbling at a piece of fish.

"I am not!"

"Deny it and I will kill you now."

"Is there anything I can do that _won't_ get me killed?"

"No."

There was a heavy sigh behind him, and a thump. When he looked back, Sephiroth was lying on his back, staring bleakly at the ceiling.

"This is _not_ what I had in mind when I was trying to get out here," he muttered.

"And what _did_ you have in mind?"

"Solitude. Days, maybe weeks of being alone in the backwater areas of wherever I came up until someone found and killed me. Instead, I get found and captured immediately, wind up violently ill, and I'm stuck in a cave with _you_."

"You don't even know me."

"You're with Cloud. That's all I need to know."

"And what does being associated with Cloud have to do with who I am?"

"You hate me, just like he does, and you have no idea why."

"I know exactly why," Vincent said coolly, sipping at the soup. "If you can't understand it, it is no fault of mine."

"_Why_, then?" Sephiroth hissed. "What reason could you possibly have when you _slept_ through all twenty-odd years of my life?"

"You killed Lucrecia. You destroyed Nibleheim. You killed Aerith. You tried to _destroy_ the _Planet_."

"All I did was throw myself over a railing when I thought I'd killed my best friend!"

"I beg your pardon?"

"You _heard_ me. I was in control long enough to throw myself into the reactor and pray to whatever God is willing to watch over a science experiment that the fall and the Mako would kill me and Jenova. All it did was tear me out of the body and let her have fun with it. Don't you _dare_ blame me for everything. Lucrecia chose to do what she did to me- I haven't spent these last few years just sitting, I went and asked questions. She wanted to alter me as much as Hojo did, because she thought it would be _good_ for me. I am not Jenova; do not lump me in with that _thing_ because she was using the strongest, most useful body she could to wreak havoc."

Vincent was silent for a minute, watching. Just the simple act of getting angry and ranting had left Sephiroth panting and exhausted on the floor, but there was truth in his reaction. Either he was telling the truth, or he honestly believed he was telling it. Whichever it was, it made him uncomfortable.

-----------------------------------------------

Sephiroth slept again, leaving Vincent to brood in silence for several hours, prodding the fish every now and then to check if it was done.

The rain stopped shortly before sundown. Vincent sighed. If he hadn't been saddled with a Mako-sick companion, he'd have gotten going now, not stopping until he needed to. As it was, he'd be lucky to set out in the morning. Muttering, he wrapped up in his cloak and settled against the cave wall for a restless night.

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Morning arrived wet but sunny. Vincent broke out granola bars and waited for Sephiroth to wake up. With a little luck, he'd be in good enough shape to hobble out of the cave and get a move on.

"You want to leave, don't you?" Sephiroth asked as soon as he woke.

"Hmmm?"

"You're restless. You want to leave."

"Of course," Vincent murmured, embarrassed that he was so easily read. "I'm expected in Midgar."

"Where you plan to hand me over to the tender mercies of your companions."

"Yes."

"I can walk. It will be slow going, but you won't be cooped up in here another day."

"What?"

Sephiroth shrugged.

"Delaying just gives me time to contemplate my demise at their hands, after all. I might as well get it over with. What's another trip to the Life Stream, after all? Perhaps there will be a place for me this time."

"Fine, then," Vincent sniffed. "We'll leave as soon as I get packed."

Sephiroth quietly moved off the bedroll and sat against the wall, watching Vincent collect his things and stow them in his pack.

Eventually, curiosity got the best of Vincent.

"What did you mean when you said there might be a place for you this time?" he asked, strapping the bedroll to his pack.

"Exactly what it sounds like."

"Explain it to me."

"I have died no less than three times. Once partially of my own doing, and twice through no fault of mine. Each time I have reentered the Life Stream, there has been no place for me. I have not been dissolved into energy, have not been reincarnated, have not been added to those few souls kept for special purposes later on, have not even been shuttled off to join those who have not yet been judged for their lives. I am simply left, floating in history and future, ignored and forgotten until Jenova comes back and drags me out with her to serve as a mask to hide her actions. Then I return again, lost and left behind. My friends cannot or will not come to me. My enemies are long gone or still living. I become nothing but clutter that no one bothers to clean up." He snorted derisively. "A metaphysical dust bunny."

Vincent said nothing. Again, there was the disturbingly convinced tone to Sephiroth's words. It was truth, or what he saw as truth. Vincent didn't want to believe it. He had spent thirty years getting over everything concerning Sephiroth. Then he had spent another three years getting over the fact that he'd helped kill Lucrecia's child. And now here he was, right back where he'd started, wanting desperately to believe that Sephiroth was telling the truth and that he was innocent of his final and most terrible crimes.

-------------------------------------------------

As he'd promised, Sephiroth was able to keep up a decent pace. It wasn't fast by any sense of the word, but he was moving and they were covering ground. It was enough to keep Vincent happy, at least.

They stopped once for lunch and to refill water bottles, and continued on.

--------------------------------------------------

Mid-afternoon, Sephiroth stopped so quickly that Vincent didn't notice immediately and got several yards ahead before noticing that he was missing. He turned around angrily, thinking Sephiroth was stalling, and found Sephiroth standing still, one hand gripping the trunk of a young tree beside him.

"Is there a reason you've stopped?" Vincent asked cattily.

"I need to stop for a moment," Sephiroth said slowly.

"You've been fine all day."

Sephiroth shook his head. His hold on the tree tightened until his knuckles were white with the strain.

Vincent reached for him. Sephiroth put his other hand out, perhaps to stop him, then yanked it back and clapped it over his mouth. He shuddered, coughing softly, then retched.

Blood seeped between two of his fingers. Vincent smelled it before he saw it and pulled Sephiroth's hand away from his mouth just in time for him to throw up in earnest, splattering Vincent's boots and hand with a mixture of vomit and blood. Vincent squeaked, as much in surprise as disgust, and tried to step away. Sephiroth grabbed at his cloak, clinging desperately.

"Don't," he whispered.

"What?"

"I'll fall. And I don't think I'll be able to get up."

_You've pushed him too hard_, Chaos explained. _His body can't make up for the strain you're putting on him. It's breaking itself down in an attempt to provide enough energy to burn out the excess Mako and keep functioning the way you're demanding._

But he never-

_Why would he? He's a soldier, Vincent, trained to march and to fight under any conditions. _

Now _you're _defending him?

_I may not like him, but he is making an effort, and there's nothing remotely resembling a nasty intent coming off of him. He's sick, he's somewhat lost, he's in the hands of an enemy, and his death is looming. He doesn't care anymore. And I remember what that was like. Don't you?_

Vincent did. He remembered lying on the tables, hurt and cold and terribly frightened, remembered giving up and letting the cold, cold hands do as they pleased to him. He remembered the coffin, waking up in it the first time, burning with fever from an infected gash in his leg- from when Hojo had wrestled his unresisting body into the coffin- and trapped, trapped in a small, dark world. He'd wanted desperately to die. And he hadn't. He had lain there, sleeping and waking intermittently, for thirty years.

_Find somewhere close where he can rest for awhile. Make sure he drinks plenty of water._

How do you know all this?

_When you fought the infection, after we were first put in the coffin, this happened to you, too. I had to take over and get us out of the coffin and upright so we didn't choke on our own blood. I had to figure out how to care for us or risk dying for good. _Chaos fed him a few memories of blood and vomit rising in his throat, of staggering out of the coffin, and, later, of slumping against wall of the wine cellar with a bottle of wine and using that as the only fluid he had readily available. From there, he had gone up into the house for water. _You see?_

I don't remember that.

_Why would you? You were delirious. Just take care of him, Vincent. He's just a man now._

Chaos sounded almost defeated. Vincent withdrew from him and looked back at Sephiroth. The ex-General was still hanging on him, trembling. Blood puddled on the ground between them.

Vincent sighed, grasped Sephiroth's arm, and pulled him upright. Sephiroth slumped against him, panting, then jerked and gagged. More blood ran down Vincent's shoulder.

"Just lean on me," Vincent said gently. "You'll be fine."

"What's happening to me?"

"Your body is protesting the strain I've put it under."

Sephiroth looked up at him, startled. He stared into Vincent's eyes for a moment, then nodded.

-----------------------------

An hour later, Vincent was washing his cloak while Sephiroth slumped against a boulder and sipped at a bottle of water. He'd stopped coughing and vomiting up blood, though he still looked shaky.

Vincent waded out of the stream, carrying his cloak. He tossed it over the nearest boulder and shook water out of his hair.

"I don't understand you," Sephiroth said quietly. His voice had gone hoarse, but it still carried, evidence of long years of speaking to troops so they could hear him.

"Mmm?"

"You've made it clear that you're only keeping me alive because you want to know how I've come back, yet you're treating me better than one would treat a prisoner. I don't understand."

Vincent blinked.

"I suppose…" he started. "I am sympathetic to your condition. I suffered from overtaxing myself when I was first locked away, shortly after you were born. I remember very little of it, but what I remember is more than enough."

Sephiroth nodded.

"That explains your willingness to stop and let me recover. But you are _caring_ for me. That is something few have ever done, and certainly never anyone who would rather have me dead."

"Maybe I don't want you dead."

"Then why are you still taking me to Midgar?"

"Midgar is the closest place I have to home. Where else would I go?"

"Even if you don't want me dead, they do."

"We'll see when we get there, won't we?"

--------------------------------------------

Two days after they made port just south of Junon, Vincent accidentally ran Sephiroth too hard again. They were close to a village, so Vincent told Sephiroth to stay put and went to arrange for a room in the tiny inn.

When he returned, Sephiroth was still huddled against the tree Vincent had left him at, still ashen and shaking fitfully.

"I have a room for us," Vincent said to him, crouching beside him. "Can you stand?"

Sephiroth shook his head. Vincent sighed and started to wrestle his cloak off. When it was off, he handed it to Sephiroth.

"Put this on. Keep your hair under the collar and try to hide your face."

"Why?"

"Just because I tolerate you, don't assume the rest of the world won't have a collective heart attack if it learns you're back."

Sephiroth got the cloak on, fumbling with the buckles a little, then looked at Vincent for more instructions. Over the last couple of days, he had grown remarkably complacent, apparently content to walk and let Vincent lead, occasionally exchanging a few words with him. He didn't question Vincent's choices.

"Just hold onto me and look sick," Vincent murmured, sliding his arms under Sephiroth's legs and behind his shoulders.

"Alright."

Thus, when Vincent walked into the Prancing Chocobo, he was carrying a trembling bundle of red fabric and wide green eyes. Sephiroth had managed to get most of his body hidden by Vincent's cloak, helping make him look smaller, and there was little to make him look suspicious.

"Oh, goodness, is she alright?" the hostess squeaked, scurrying to Vincent's side.

"_He_ will be fine," Vincent promised. "He just needs rest."

"Is there anything we can do? Call a doctor, perhaps?"

Vincent shook his head.

"This is nothing new for us. I can handle it on my own."

Sephiroth made a small, sick noise, the one Vincent had learned meant throwing up was imminent. He hurried past the hostess and up the stairs. He nearly dropped Sephiroth while he fumbled for the room key and wound up putting him down, where he leaned against the wall with both hands clamped over his mouth. Vincent gave him a worried look.

"Don't you dare throw up out here," he whispered, finally getting the key into the lock and pushing the door open. He grabbed Sephiroth and hustled him into the room, almost tripping over the edge of a rug on the way. "Come on."

Somehow, the whole vomiting blood thing looked a lot worse when the blood was spattered on white porcelain instead of on grass and dirt.

-------------------------------------------------

After he'd gotten Sephiroth cleaned up, somewhat hydrated, and into bed, Vincent ventured out into the village in search of clothing for Sephiroth that was more appropriate than leather pants and jacket.

When he returned, Sephiroth was still asleep, lying on his belly with a pillow held against his chest. Vincent put his purchases down, kicked off his boots, and padded over to the bed.

Sephiroth looked much younger when he was asleep. Younger and innocent, like he hadn't done all those things Vincent had seen him do. Or…that he'd seen Sephiroth's body do. Thinking like that was confusing. Vincent didn't really know what to make of it. All he knew was that part of him twisted up into knots when he saw Sephiroth like this, or when he was doubled over and throwing up blood, face screwed up with the pain. Whenever he appeared…human.

_Careful._

Of?

_Of falling into any kind of love for him. You know that will end messily._

I'm not!

_Vincent, I don't know what kind of love this is, but it's love, and it's strong. He doesn't know how to love. It was never taught to him. All it will do is hurt you, and I don't want to have to pick up the pieces._

He could have been mine, Chaos. My child. My _son_.

_But he wasn't. He was born to the slimy bastard who put me in you. It's in the past. _

Vincent nodded faintly and reached out to feel Sephiroth's forehead. He was still a little warm. That was to be expected; he was still fighting to burn the extra Mako out, and that always meant a fever. He had, however, stopped sweating, which meant that he was recovering from stressing himself.

Sephiroth shifted under Vincent's hand, making a small noise in his sleep. Vincent smiled faintly and went to shower.

------------------------------------------

Vincent decided to stay a couple of days and let Sephiroth recover properly. Sephiroth was all too happy to comply; Vincent got the feeling he appreciated the chance to sleep in a real bed and lie in the sunlight coming through the window.

----------------------------------

"Vincent?"

"Mmm?"

"I need a word."

"Word?"

"For this crossword puzzle."

Vincent looked up. Sephiroth was lying on the floor, the local paper spread out on the floor before him, open to the crossword. He had a pencil in his mouth.

"What's the clue?"

"Marked by peace and prosperity. Seven letters, the fifth is 'y'."

"Halcyon?"

"What?"

"Halcyon. As in 'halcyon days'."

"Which are?"

Vincent blinked. "It means a time that has past, one that was peaceful and prosperous, good for all who lived during it. It's typically something older people say, in referring to their youth."

Sephiroth snorted.

"I wouldn't have any of those to refer to," he muttered. He examined the puzzle, then looked up at Vincent. "Spell it?"

"H-a-l-c-y-o-n."

"It fits."

"Mmhm."

It was quiet for awhile, then Sephiroth spoke again.

"Eight letters. Traits derived or inherited from the mother."

"Maternal. You have quite a few of them."

"I do?"

Vincent smiled faintly. "You do. Your face is as fine-boned as hers was. And you have the same hands." Sephiroth lifted a hand to examine it curiously. "Long and very slender."

"You loved her." It wasn't a question.

"I did."

"Do you still love her?"

"No."

"Why not?"

"She was not the woman I thought she was."

Sephiroth put the newspaper and pencil to the side and fixed his attention on Vincent.

"How so?"

"Is this really necessary?"

"She was my mother, and I never knew her. I didn't even know she existed for most of my life. You knew her. I want to know what she was like."

Vincent swallowed hard, considering just ignoring Sephiroth, but the look Sephiroth was giving him was one of curiosity and interest. An innocent look. There were no ulterior motives behind it.

"When I met Lucrecia, I was a Turk assigned to the lab under Nibleheim. She was working there, with other scientists. It was a fairly big operation, and I wasn't the only Turk there, but she expressed an interest in me. She was young, and very beautiful. Long brown hair that had gold in it in the sun, soft brown eyes…she had a laugh like a song. It made me feel like the greatest man on the planet when I could make her laugh. It was a long assignment, so I had plenty of time to get to know her. We spent quite a bit of our free time together, talking and getting to know one another." Something in his chest was knotting up, tight and painful, making it hard to speak. "I fell in love with her. With everything that she was. And I…I fancied that she felt the same way. I fantasized about seeing her formally, perhaps marrying her, and retiring with her. Raising a family."

Sephiroth's eyes widened as he realized what Vincent meant by that. He said nothing, however, and only waited to hear more.

"I had been unaware of her relationship with Hojo. I don't know if she actually loved him or not, but…when I found out they were married, I was devastated. I'd never felt that way about anyone before, and then I found that some very key information had been kept from me, information that made the entire thing a joke. I took it badly, but only in private. During working hours and whenever I was in her presence, I pretended it hadn't impacted me in the slightest. I did the same thing when I heard she was pregnant with you."

"Did she tell you?"

"Only after I'd heard it from someone else. Many of the staff were surprised, as the joke was that Hojo was sterile. I asked her, and she confirmed it. I congratulated her, then excused myself to have a breakdown where she couldn't see. Again, I let it go. Then…one of the afternoons when we were out together, she told me about what was being done to you. I confronted Hojo, believing she was being forced into it. Rage made me careless; he knocked my gun from my hand, dove for it, and then shot me with it. And she stood there with us, and watched me bleed." It wound tighter, burning, choking tightness in his chest, filling every corner of it.

"But you didn't know then," Sephiroth breathed. "She was still a good woman to you, wasn't she? When did your perception change?"

"I woke on the slab twice without her. The first time, I was just in pain. The second time, Hojo had tried to used a drug cocktail on me that I reacted badly to, and I was ill. The third time I woke, she was standing over me with a scalpel and a hypodermic needle. I was dying. Hojo had given me to her, to experiment on as she saw fit. She…bound four demons into my body. The first three were failed attempts to keep me alive, though I didn't know why she wanted me living. The fourth and strongest one succeeded where the others failed, though only after torture on my part and ridicule on hers. Once it was certain I was going to survive, she handed me back to Hojo to play with some more. I never saw her again."

"She saved your life. Why don't you still love her?"

"She saved my life to prove a theory. And then she gave me back to my _murderer_, so he could cut more pieces out of me, stitch me back together, fill me with Mako, and then leave me in a tomb to suffer for thirty _years_. Longer, if Cloud hadn't found and released me. I had a lot of time to think while I was in my coffin. And I realized that I no longer love her." He inhaled shakily, blinking back tears. He'd told his story to Cloud and the others, but he had left the personal parts out. They knew the bare bones only, not the things that made it real. Recounting it all was painful.

"What do you mean, she bound demons into you?"

_Let me. You're about to lose it._

Go on.

_It's long over, Vincent. It's alright._

Chaos stepped into the forefront of Vincent's mind, slipping off the armchair Vincent had been sitting in to make room for his wings as they sprouted from his back and spread wide, touching both walls. Sephiroth stared at him, gaping at the dusky gray creature where his captor had been. Chaos crouched to address him, ignoring the tears that had finally started to spill from his eyes. They ran silently down his cheeks and dripped to the floor.

"There are four of us, silver one. Of them, I am the one who saved his life, for better or for worse. The others are more animal than anything else. Between the two of us, they are well contained and no longer break free on their own."

"And you?" Sephiroth asked hesitantly.

"Vincent and I coexist. We can do little else, after all. Without me, it is likely he would die in minutes. I fight for him when he can't do it for himself, and I provide information, advice, and companionship. I share his thoughts and his nightmares."

Sephiroth met his eyes for a moment, then looked down.

"Why are you crying?"

"I am not. Vincent is."

"Why?"

"You could have been his son, Sephiroth. You are the child he couldn't protect, the one he failed to save three times. He died because of you, and he rose from his coffin for you. You are all that remains of the woman who built him up and then shattered him utterly. It took him thirty years to get over her, and still he mourns you."

"Why does he care? I'm not…not his."

"But you could have been. In his dreams, you would have been the child he had with the woman he loved. It hurts him. It hurt him to help kill you, hurt him to help destroy the Remnants of you, and hurts to have to take you to be tortured and eventually killed. That is why he cries. And I cannot deny him something so pure."

"But you're-"

"Dark. But not evil. I came from the Life Stream, and someday I will return to it."

"Then do you know why he's still taking me to Midgar?"

Chaos smiled faintly.

"Do you know why you're still going with him?"

"I-" He stopped, and blinked, confused. "I feel like I should."

"His loyalty to Cloud and the others drives him to take you to them, even though instinct tells him otherwise, just like you know you ought to run, but you don't."

"I don't like riddles."

"Mind-reading isn't a gift I possess. I couldn't say exactly why you feel compelled to follow him. But I can say this: keep following him."

"You still aren't making much sense."

"I usually don't. I'm going now. Keep doing that puzzle with him, hmm? He likes it."

"Why does that-"

Too late. Chaos melted back into Vincent, who hit the floor on his knees with the sudden shift, tears still streaming down his face. He looked at Sephiroth, who stared back at him, then ducked his head and examined the carpet beneath his legs.

"I'm sorry," Sephiroth said softly.

"For what?"

"She treated you as badly as she did me. Worse, in some ways. I didn't know."

"It was a long time ago."

Sephiroth nodded faintly and picked up his puzzle again. He considered the clues while Vincent got back into his chair, wiping tears from his face.

"Nine letters," Sephiroth murmured. "Starts with Z. The spirit of the time."

Vincent considered the clue for a moment.

"Zeitgeist."

"Zit-_what_?"

---------------------------------------------------

The night before Vincent planned to leave for Midgar, he found himself sitting cross-legged on the bed in the room he was sharing with Sephiroth, waiting patiently. Earlier in the day, Sephiroth had suggested that, to avoid- as Vincent had put it- giving the world a collective heart attack, he ought to make some kind of change to his appearance. After some debate, it was decided that he would dye his hair, which was what he was busy doing now. In fact, what he'd been doing for some time now.

Vincent was nervous. Chaos had been forced to keep a running conversation, assuring Vincent that everything out be fine. Sephiroth wasn't going to suffer any kind of reaction to the dye. Stop worrying.

Eventually, the shower started. It ran for some time, then turned off with a 'thunk'. Shortly after, the bathroom door opened.

"For all that you say I have my mother's face," Sephiroth murmured, stepping into the bedroom, "you and I certainly share quite a few similar features."

"Do we?"

"Yes. For example- why are you looking at me like that?"

Vincent didn't answer. He hadn't noticed what color dye he'd gotten for Sephiroth when he'd bought it. Now that he saw the results…

_He looks like you_.

He does. How is that possible?

_I have no idea._

Sephiroth's hair was jet black, as long as ever but looking longer with the weight of water pulling it down. It framed the angles of his cheeks and his sharp jaw, made his eyes burn green, and all in all turned him into a different person.

"No reason. Continue."

"We have the same nose," Sephiroth murmured. "And the dip in our upper lips is remarkably deep, considering how thin said upper lips are. Both of us have very mobile mouths, and fine, pale skin."

"That's just-"

"I'm not finished. Your eyes are nearly as deep-set as mine. We both have exceptionally long legs and our hair is both fine and very abundant. Both of us are solid muscle, but neither of us has bulked up in any way."

"Coincidence."

"Is it? Hojo's nose was wider and flatter than mine. In the one picture I've seen of her, my mother's was far smaller. Both of them had a very gentle dip in their upper lips. My skin is paler than either of theirs. I don't have Hojo's eye shape, or the shape of his face. And he was a skinny little bastard given to being bony. His hair was thin and coarse, and hers doesn't look as fine as mine is. Tell me, Vincent, where did I get all those traits?"

Vincent stared at Sephiroth. His mind raced, trying to find an explanation for where the similarities had come from. Nothing was coming up, until he remembered something. ShinRa had kept numerous DNA samples from the Turks, to aid in identification of bodies- since it was often more a pile of flesh instead of an intact body. Vincent distinctly remembered providing hair, blood, skin, and…

_Perhaps he was sterile._

No. There's no way.

_Dramatic irony, perhaps? On his part, at least. Maybe he recognized your strength and chose to use your sample to get her pregnant with a child that had your favorable traits. Really, anything he spawned with that little woman wouldn't have been very formidable._

He can't be.

_I'd say he can. _

"There is only one thing that you want to hear," Vincent said quietly. "But we have no proof."

"You don't want to get your hopes up," Sephiroth spat. "You already know I'm right."

"I do not."

"Fine. Wallow in denial and pity, if you want. I have what I wanted."

--------------------------------

After that, they traveled in silence. Now that Sephiroth was all but recovered, they ran instead of walked. Both of them were capable of an easy pace that ate up the distance, and they could keep it for hours at a time.

They reached Midgar in two and a half days.

----------------------------------------

Vincent took Sephiroth directly to 7th Heaven. He heard the gasps of horror and surprise when those within realized who was hiding under the black hair, but he did not stay to see what they did to him.

-----------------------------------------

Vincent had a small apartment in Midgar, nowhere near 7th Heaven- a circumstance that had not been planned but was, in retrospect, appreciated- that he lived in when he wasn't traveling. It was almost cramped, but a comfortable, quiet place for an eternal bachelor. After delivering Sephiroth, he went home and locked himself in.

----------------------------------------

A week later, Vincent was roused from an afternoon nap by someone ringing his bell. It turned out to be Tseng, wet with rain and carrying a folder.

Vincent let him in, served coffee, listened to what he had to say, examined the contents of the folder, and politely bid him good day when he left.

-------------------------------

Sephiroth was declared dead on the morning of Wednesday, August 3. Cause of death was lethal injection, administered by one Tseng Yusikii. He was approximately thirty-four years old.

Procedure was typical- the deceased requested fish and tomato soup as his last meal. The body was released to outside party for disposal.

Of note: deceased requested that his hair be dyed black before his death. Request accepted. Deceased requested that he be dressed in red or a cloak for his death. Request denied.

-------------------------------

In the mountains outside North Corel, way back in a quiet valley, a small cave with a Life Stream flow in the back of it was walled up. Inside, a man lay on a bed of stone, arms at his sides, one hand resting on the hilt of a fine katana. He was dressed in leather and steel, a truly imposing figure. His hair was jet black.

Chiseled into the rock face outside the cave were a few short lines:

_S. Valentine._

_Known by the world as a monster, _

_by old warriors as a hero, _

_and by one man as a son._

_There was a place waiting this time._

_VV_

---------------------------------------------

Vincent wasn't much of one for decorating his apartment. He had a few framed prints up, photos of Cloud, Tifa, and the rest of the team, one watercolor bought at a craft fair, and a certificate. It read, in neat black type on slightly off-white paper:

**Hojo: ****Unidentified**

**Lucrecia ****Crescent****: Match**

**Vincent**** Valentine: Match**


End file.
